


In your veins.

by Rogue1987



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Bisexuality, Bromance, Card Games, Denial of Feelings, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Established Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, Laver Cup, M/M, Mild Smut, Past Relationship(s), Rivalry, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2020-12-09 01:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue1987/pseuds/Rogue1987
Summary: Nick Kyrgios is on a very important mission. His goal?Trying to get Sascha and Stefanos- two guys who can't stand each other- to get together before the Laver Cup is over.How hard can it be?





	1. Imagine me and you.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this in my head for a while now. I have to say that I'm not a massive tennis fan and I don't know everything about the players so I'm making up most of it as I go along.  
I really adore Nick so I wanted to write him into this with a pretty big role. If you don't like him you may wanna skip this story. 
> 
> He's not in a relationship with anyone here, he and Jack are just friends with benefits and he's had a thing with Sascha in the past. But also, nothing serious. He and Stef only hooked up once.  
He's trying to be matchmaker to Sascha and Stef. 
> 
> Sascha's always been one of my favourites so I wanted to write a story about him and I love his bond with Nick and Stef.  
This was supposed to be a one-shot but I don't do one-shots apparently. It always gets way too long. Fedal will have a tiny role in this too.  
This is my first attempt at this pairing and only my second tennis fic so don't kill me if I get things wrong okay. 
> 
> I hope you like it. Let me know. This is just for fun.
> 
> Also, I haven't forgotten about my Fedal story, I hope to update that soon too. I just wanted this new idea typed out before I would forget it.
> 
> If you see any mistakes feel free to tell me about it.

_Geneva. 2019._

Sascha finally met his old pal Nick during lunch on the day before the Laver Cup started. The cheeky Australian gave him a mischievous grin and a brief hug that was so effervescently cool that Sascha knew he could never rival. He was far too serious for that.  
And he'd had an incredibly shitty year, so he currently walked around with a permanent sullen frown tethered to his face. Or as Mischa liked to call it: his sour puss face. Even his family had got quite fed up with his brooding, depressed mood swings lately, not that he could blame them.  
Nick patted his shoulders amicably and held him a fraction longer than was absolutely necessary, because well, this was Nick. Pushing it too far and shamelessly flirting with everyone he liked was sort of his schtick. "Hey mate, how have you been?"  
"I'm okay, Nick. And you?"  
"Oh you know me, I'm always _peachy_ bro. I was really looking forward to this tournament though, can't wait to finally beat your team's butt,"  
Sascha couldn't help but scoff at that bold statement. "And when have you _ever_ beaten us? Like you'll beat us this year with that lousy, mediocre team you brought? Please. You actually brought _Sock_ with you? Seriously? Is that supposed to intimidate us? If you wanted to scare us you should have brought bigger guns,"

Nick's dark eyes narrowed dangerously and Sascha knew it was a low blow but part of him needed this debate more than his lungs needed air. He'd missed bickering about everything with Nick far more than he cared to admit.  
Picking on Jack Sock would always get Nick's protective juices flowing, which would inevitably lead to a heated argument. Which was just what Sascha needed right now.

Being in the same team as Tsitsipas and actually being forced to interact with him for the upcoming three days was annoying enough, he needed to defuse some tension and Nick was always willing to assist him with that. But Sascha had gone too far. He could tell. He was pushing the very limits of Nick's patience, which were highly narrow, to begin with.  
"Don't fucking do that, Sascha. He's had a bad year, I'm sure _you_ should be able to sympathize,"  
It stung, but Sascha needed it to. He earned it for being a bitch about Jack to Nick. No one got away with that except for Nick himself. Still, Sascha was in a pestering mood and not willing to give in just yet.  
"You always stick up for your boyfriend," Sascha scowled aggravated.   
"We prefer the term life-partner, actually," Nick parried, a cocky smile dancing on his lips. Sascha didn't want this, didn't want Nick to go all soft on him. He wanted to sabotage himself like he had been doing all year. He needed to wallow in self-pity, wanted to drown in it. "Anyway, loyalty's important, don't you think Sascha? Especially when people are going through difficult shit," Nick continued, his glance hardening a tad now, more to Sascha's liking.  
"It is,"  
"Don't fucking underestimate him just because he had a bad year filled with injuries. He's here mostly for the doubles, you know. Which are kind of his thing in case you hadn't noticed over the past hundred years. Who's going to stop the two of us during the doubles? _You?_ Bitch please,"  
"Roger and Rafa might,"

Nick scoffed so loud that a nearby caterer jumped up with a scare. "They got lucky two years ago and you fucking know it,"  
"Well, Tsitsipas might, I guess he's not that bad at doubles,"  
"Wow, _'not that bad'_ I reckon that's the nicest shit you ever said about him. Better not let him hear it. He'll think you've gone all limp dick on him,"  
"You're such an asshole, Nick,"  
"And yet you _love_ me, don't bother denying it,"

Sascha rolled his eyes at him but didn't deny it. He leaned in a little closer and conveyed the room for curious ears. When the coast was clear he asked the question that had been eating away at him for months now. "So, have you fucked him yet? Tsitsipas?"  
Nick barely flinched and brought a champagne glass filled with orange juice to his lips, taking a few languid, torturous sips before he finally had the decency to reply. "Have you?"  
Sascha choked on his own sip of water at Nick's ludicrous counter-question. _"Excuse me?"_  
"Do I need to repeat the question for you? And here I was under the impression that you were smart,"  
"No, but why would you even think-"  
"Nothing better than hate sex Sascha, look at us,"  
"We never hated each other asshole,"  
"Nah, but I didn't exactly like you either when we first hooked up. You annoyed the shit out of me. Which lead to some very hot sex.  
Angry sex is _hot_, mate. Having it with someone who literally makes your blood boil, I don't know, there's nothing like it. The unresolved, frantic tension between you two is frigging brilliant dude. Use it to your advantage!"

"Sure, when hell freezes over. How can you even suggest that, Nick? Jesus. I get nauseous just thinking about it,"  
"You're the _worst_ liar I've ever seen. You need to realize that you literally wear your heart on your sleeve, bro. Look, all I'm saying is, why not try to get a little closer to him during this weekend? Toxic animosity is all fun and games but he's actually a really good guy who hasn't done anything to deserve how you're treating him. And he cares about what you think of him. I know he does,"  
Sascha was developing a raging headache and felt himself slowly derailing. He was going to obsess about Nick's words for a while. Over analyzing them until he would drive himself royally crazy. "Why would he even care about my opinion?"  
"Why don't you ask him yourself instead of asking me? If you want I can invite you two to my hotel room tonight for a game of cards with me and Jack? Might actually help,"  
"Shouldn't you try to divide us instead of forcing us to get a better dynamic? I mean team-wise and all that. You do wanna win this year, don't you? If we're fighting it might increase your chance of success,"  
"I rather earn this fucking cup fair and square, Sash. I _hate_ cheaters, you know that. I want to beat you because we're the better team because the underdogs deserve a win for once in their lives,"  
"Well, I hate to break it to you but you don't have the better team, not on paper anyway. Sock is like number 221 on the ranking isn't he?"

There was that ominous darkness residing in Nick's eyes again, burning hot like fire. But this time he went on the offensive and smacked the ball back into Sascha's face for once. "I've fucked him,"  
"Who? Jack? I know that, shit I bet everybody knows about that,"  
"Yeah well duh, but I was talking about _your_ darling little Greek,"  
Sascha's heart sank into his stomach and he gritted his teeth together way too hard. His hands were balled, quivering fists at his sides. "You're joking right?"  
"Nope, come on you know me Sash, I'm a try-sexual. I'll try anyone once and believe me, he was offering, so I thought, why not take another snack and indulge myself, you know? Live a little. He was good too, oh so good,"

Sascha was reduced to a trembling mess, a shadow of himself as he tried to deal with this blow to the face. He wanted to shout at Nick but his voice was caught in the back of his throat. He had no right to shout at him anyway, Nick could do whatever he liked and whoever he liked. And he always did.

"Awww look at you being all jealous,"  
"We haven't slept together in ages Nick, I don't care who you fuck,"  
"Brah, you're not jealous that he was fucking me you're jealous that I was fucking _him!"_  
"Why the fuck would I care who _he's_ fucking?"  
Nick sized him up slowly, looking rather thoughtful all of the sudden. Laying a warm hand to Sascha's forearm. Nick had always run hot in every sense of the word. He shrugged, brushing Sascha's arm sympathetically. "No clue, mate. I don't think you really know either. For some reason, you obviously care more about him than even you thought or liked to admit. I mean there's literally steam coming out of your ears right now. You're so angry with me. For fucking him. You should tell him you like him,"  
"No thanks Nick, and I _don't_ like him. Also, I don't care for your sloppy seconds thank you very much!"  
"Don't disrespect him like that. It only happened once and we were drunk as fuck. You're portraying him as if he's some kind of whore. He's not. He was just curious and we get along well. It won't happen again,"  
"It better not," Sascha heard the words ooze out but they seemed to come from a stranger's lips.

Jack Sock appeared from behind Nick and extended his hand out to Sascha. "Hey man, how are you doing? Good to see you," Sock was always extremely friendly to everyone around him and had an ease to him that instantly made you like him.  
But Sascha nearly laughed mockingly at the sight of the American. He was quite overweight and seemed to be extremely tired. Now he was even less worried about Sock than he had been before he saw the state he was in. Team World clearly enjoyed giving them the trophy, he mused content.  
"Hey Jack, I'm good and you?"  
"Fine, looking forward to the weekend, you know? So what were you two talking about?"  
"Sascha and Stefanos are coming to our room later, to play cards," Nick proclaimed, smirking mischievously at Sascha. Sascha wanted to smack that toothy grin off of his stupid face. Nick was literally backing him into a corner.  
To make shit worse, Sock actually seemed rather enthusiastic -if not a bit surprised-about the prospect. "Oh cool, I'll look forward to it. But should you two be fraternizing with the enemy on the eve of the tournament?"  
"Sascha's far too busy with his pretentious rivalry with Stef to bother about the likes of us, Jackie. He barely acknowledges us as rivals this weekend, arrogant, spoiled German prat that he is,"

If anyone else said that shit to Sascha he would have lost it. _Spoiled_ was a word that always set him off and Nick knew it. But this was Nick. Ironically, despite his bad-boy bravado, he was harmless enough and Sascha always took Nick with a much-needed proverbial grain of salt.  
Once you started to take him too seriously you would begin to think he was as big an asshole as he sometimes looked during his games, but the truth was that Nick was a really good guy.  
He just liked to troll around sometimes and he occasionally lost his temper when he felt like he had the whole world ( along with the crowd and the Umpire ) against him. At least he was interesting and something always happened when he was around.

The world saw Nick as an insolent brat with an impossible temper but Sascha knew better. Once the Australian "infant terrible" genuinely cared about you and considered you a friend he would walk through fire to keep you safe. He was loyal and a true friend. Sascha had spent hours on the phone with Nick, even when they weren't doing it, just talking about everyday life and their struggles. Nick was an excellent listener and actually handed out some pretty decent advice. 

"So you'll invite Stef yeah?" Nick ordered and Sascha sighed mulishly, knowing that disputing this would be futile as shit. "Fine, but he might not accept,"  
"Oh, I believe he will. Be there at nine," Nick murmured, a sliver of sheer enjoyment coursing over his face that told Sascha he was missing something crucial.  
Sock's knowing glance only added to his suspicions.  
They knew something. About Tsitsipas and they were deliberately hiding it from him. Sascha had to bite his tongue before he asked whether they had ever had a threesome with the Greek. He didn't think Nick would lie to him and he'd said he only fucked him once.  
Nick was generally a very upfront and honest guy so Sascha decided last minute not to doubt the Australian or to antagonize him.  
As Nick and Sock wandered off, Sascha faintly heard Sock say, "What the fuck are you stirring up this time?"  
He missed Nick's reply as the doors shut behind them, what he hadn't missed was Nick's arm slinging around Jack's shoulder.  
Sascha just prayed he didn't have to see them make out during their game tonight, that would make him ( and probably Tsitsipas too ) really uncomfortable.

When they left him alone he was tasked with the horrible prospect of asking Tsitsipas out for a game night. It didn't take him long to find him since the Greek stepped in after a minute, carrying a plate in his hands as he scoped out his food options. When he saw Sascha he froze, clearly, under the impression he had been all alone in the cafeteria. "Oh, hey," he mumbled awkwardly.  
"Hey,"  
Just a simple hey sucked up all of Sascha's willpower. He wanted to run away and hang out with Domi.  
But no, thanks to Nick fucking Kyrgios he was now forced to step out of his comfort zone and ask Tsitsipas something he truly didn't wanna ask him. Or did he? He reckoned he was just worried about being rejected.  
He had certainly earned that, he had never exactly been nice to Tsitsipas over the years. Palpable tension was already lingering in the space between them, brewing hot and heavy like lava inside of a volcano. There was no escaping it and once again Sascha felt it clawing at his throat.

He wasn't exactly certain what it was about Tsitsipas that bothered him so much. At first, he convinced himself that he was simply highly intimidated by the younger player, who was impressing friend and foe with his results and his immense talent.

His own father had even said that the overly ambitious Greek was performing much better than Sascha and that he had to work harder to not let him surpass him completely. That statement had hurt but Sascha couldn't deny it. While he was in the worst form of his life, Tsitsipas was rapidly rising to the top, taking down many massive players in the process. He even kicked Sascha down a notch on the ATP world ranking, taking fifth place as Sascha had to settle for the sixth. 

Sascha had always felt as if the weight of the world resided onto his shoulders. His family put so much pressure on him, expecting him to become as good as Roger Federer or even better. He lunged that weight around everywhere he went. It was hard for him, to deal with the continuous stress of his young life and his family's impossible expectations. Occasionally, when he had endured another torturous loss that stole away all his sleep he felt like an old man at twenty-two. But ever since Tsitsipas came around to play with the big boys the weight that collapsed on top of him had only increased tenfold. It often felt as if he had the Greek sitting on his shoulders like a fatty cherub along with his entire family, just to pester and torment him. 

But the longer Sascha obsessed about what it was that he hated so much about Tsitsipas, the more lost he felt as to what it was that _actually_ bugged him. He couldn't pinpoint it, never had been able to figure it out. Perhaps they were simply too different to get along. Perhaps Sascha had just always kept him at a distance because of the whole _"next generation"_ rivalry. And maybe it hadn't been about their career whatsoever. Some people just didn't like one another. And maybe, a sly voice in the back of his mind whispered, maybe he had never given him a chance, to begin with. 

"So uh, Nick asked me to invite you to his room tonight for a card game," Sascha blurted out, eager to get it over with and somehow get his mind back in order.  
"Oh, thank you for telling me. That sounds nice,"  
"Well, not just you and Nick. I'll be there too, and Sock, I forgot to mention that,"  
Tsitsipas' caramel coloured eyes were completely unreadable and no matter how hard Sascha scoped for something coherent he still ended up empty-handed. "Okay, sounds cool. I'll be there. What time?"  
"Uh, nine. But you don't have to go if you don't want to," he quickly added but that reassurance only seemed to piss the Greek off.  
"Zverev, I know this is weird but we're on the same team now okay? We might actually get along once we have a chance to get to know each other, you know? Make an effort. So I'll be there,"  
"Okay," Sascha turned on his heels and got ready to storm the hell out of there. "Don't you have to eat?"  
Sascha shook his head fervently. "Nah, I already ate," he lied.  
Truth was that he was absolutely starving but no chance in hell that he was staying here. He had some granola bars and a banana in his room, he would eat those. "See you later,"

Sascha spent the day trying to distract himself from the prospect of the card game with Tsitsipas and due to the obligatory interviews and press conferences it worked rather well.  
But the closer he got to nine the more he started to feel anxious as fuck. He texted Nick a few times, calling him all kinds of names, trying to get out of it but Nick wouldn't budge, as Sascha knew he wouldn't.  
Once he set his mind to something it was going to happen, no matter what. That night, as he stood in front of the mirror as he tried on his clothes and vetoed everything like some shallow high school girl, he texted Nick again. _'I hate you.'_  
_'No you don't. You love me, who are you kidding, mate?'_  
Five seconds later came the second reply. _'What's wrong bro? Can't pick an outfit?'_  
Ten seconds later the third. _'Relax Sash, stop obsessing okay? It's not a date, all right? Just wear something normal.'_

_'I don't want to come.'_  
_'Too bad, you already promised and Jack made snacks for us, ergo, you're going.'_  
_ 'Seriously? More snacks?'_  
_'Watch it you shithead. Don't think that being rude to my life-partner will get you out of this date.'_  
_'You just said it wasn't a date asshole!'_  
_'See you soon Sash.'_ Nick was just tormenting him now, because Sascha had been rude to Jack again, making a pun about his weight. His phone beeped again. Nick had sent him one more message._ 'Don't worry so much, it will be fine.'_

Half an hour later, he trembled toward Nick's room. He was dressed in simple jeans and a sky blue shirt that Mischa always said brings out his eyes. He'd thought about wearing his glasses but didn't want Nick to mock him for them ( which he always did, calling him Harry Potter ) so he left them in his room.  
He was nearly twenty-five minutes early, he knew that, but the nerves took ahold of him and the anxiety of waiting in his room all by himself was killing him. So for the first time in his life, he would actually voluntarily show up to an event way too early. Mischa would have never believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own two eyes.

He knocked on the door and was greeted by a bare-chested, slightly heaving Jack Sock, clad in nothing but a pair of moist looking boxers.  
Sascha nearly ran for the hills for some much-needed cover. "Oh fuck, please tell me you two weren't...you know,"  
The sight of Nick frantically scurrying around for his underwear told him that they were, in fact, doing what he thought they were doing before he had interrupted them. "It's twenty to nine you dipshit! Mr _"always late"_ chooses this exact day to actually show up in time? Fuck my life. Hell must be freezing over,"  
Sascha crossed his arms defensively. "I'm sorry okay, I-"  
"Dude, it's fine, seriously don't sweat it," Sock stated, cool, unfazed and collected as always. He opened the door to let Sascha in. "Nothing you haven't seen before-right?"  
Was that a shard of sheer jealousy that Sascha heard or was he just imaging things again?  
He knew that Nick and Sock weren't exclusive whatsoever and that it was nothing too serious but apparently Sock did get a bit scrumptious about Nick screwing his way through half the tennis world. He decided to hang on to that intel, he never knew when it would come in handy tonight. Nick might push his boundaries and it was nice to have some ammunition to shoot back with. 

Sascha awkwardly shook Sock's hand and stepped inside, desperately trying to find some words to rescue himself out of the precarious situation. He was always getting into uncomfortable shit, no matter what he did. It just followed him around. Mischa said it was self-fulfilling but Sascha doubted it. "So, no Tsitsipas yet?"  
And that was another thing when he was highly unhinged he started to ramble and say really dumb shit. He was such a klutz sometimes. Of course, the Greek wasn't in the room yet, if he was they wouldn't have been fucking a minute ago.  
Sascha sometimes fit the stereotypical credo that blonds really are dumb as fuck. He wasn't though, not really but his current question didn't exactly back that up.  
"Well, actually I think he's hiding underneath the bed, or in the closet, I forgot. The little pervert really wanted to watch the show. I guess he doesn't have pay per view in his room," Nick retorted dryly as he dressed quickly. Sock was in his clothes before Sascha could blink which told him that despite his tummy his speed was still quite impressive.  
"Don't be such a dick man, can't you tell he's feeling very uncomfortable. Have a seat Sascha, what would you like to drink?" Sock offered fatherly as he sat Sascha down at the round table.

Something strong. Sascha needed a river of alcohol to make it through the night. He knew his father and Mischa would kill him for it but he was weak as fuck. "Do you have a Gin and Tonic?"  
"Sash, should you be drinking-" Nick intervened, knowing his habits and his schedule far better than Sascha would care to admit. Nick remembered more things than people gave him credit for and they had been close for a long time.  
"Hey you dragged me into this shit, I'm drinking. I'm not a child Nick and you're not the boss of me. Just give me a fucking drink!"  
"We have Gin and Tonic, I even cut up some lemon," Sock said, pointing at a saucer with a neatly cut pile of lemons on it. "Nick said you like Gin and Tonic so I stocked up,"  
"Thanks, that's nice of you,"  
"I have my moments," Sock shrugged. He made Sascha's drink and put the glass on the table.  
After a few sips, Sascha found his good manners again. "Thanks. Hey, I'm sorry for barging in here so early,"  
Jack put his beer down and smiled politely. "Dude, seriously, it's fine, we lost track of time so don't worry about it. We're good,"  
"Speak for yourself," Nick grumbled as he worked his way through his first beer with the speed of light. Sascha had never known anyone who could drink as much without getting wasted as Nick could. The Aussies truly were a special breed when it came to alcohol.

"Hey, can I ask you something," Sock quipped, leaning in a bit, his blue eyes gleaming expectantly in the dimmed light.  
"Uh sure, I guess," Sascha had a feeling that whatever it was it couldn't be good.  
"Did you ever walk in on Roger and Rafa having sex?"  
Sascha was so stunned that he was grateful he just put his glass down otherwise he would have choked in his drink. "What? Roger and Rafa? No, why-wait-have you?"  
"Jackie, _not_ our business," Nick chided, nudging the American's arm. "Oh please, like you're not dying to know,"  
"Of course I am, but you're kinda putting poor Sascha on the spot here. He's not going to betray his team captains, his idols. You're just too curious for your own good,"  
"Well sue me,"  
"This isn't the fucking States _sweetheart_, people don't sue people for every tiny thing here in Europe,"  
"Jesus, are you two always like this?" Sascha exasperated. Two pair of mischievous twinkling eyes turned to him simultaneously. "Yes,"

A knock on the door scared all three of them shitless. Sascha checked his watch and noticed that Tsitsipas was also ten minutes early to the party. He felt a knot form in his stomach at the gruelling prospect of sitting in the same confined space as the Greek for the upcoming hours.  
He tried to brace himself the best he could when Sock wandered to the door to let him in.  
Sascha watched the tall Greek step inside and let out a long-withheld breath he didn't know he was holding. Tsitsipas was wearing a similar shade of blue blouse and a pair of plain jeans. His wavy blond hair was dancing on his shoulders. "Hello everyone, thank you for inviting me,"  
"Of course man, we're happy to have you. Come in," Sock smirked warmly.  
Nick stood up to hug the Greek briefly and Sascha was left a bit clueless as to what to do now. How should he greet him? But the younger player stole the choice away from him and went in for a formal handshake. Sascha felt extremely happy the didn't ambush him with a hug.

"Well look at you two wearing matching outfits? How _cute_," Nick teased smugly. Sascha felt furious heat creeping over his face. He wanted to punch Nick. It was already starting and he knew damn well that Nick wouldn't stop until Sock made him. "Oh well, I like blue," Tsitsipas explained as he took the vacant seat to Sascha's right.  
"I do too," Sascha gave in a little. Just a tad. To get onto friendlier grounds. After all, they were teammates for a whole weekend. It was all for the good of team Europe, he lied to himself.  
Nick exchanged a knowing smile with Sock. "Of course you do. So Steffie, drink?"  
"Can I have a Sprite?"  
"Seriously? We're all drinking like big boys here tonight kiddo, live a little huh? We have Whiskey, Gin, Vodka, pick your poison," Nick challenged provocatively, shooting a wink at Sascha when Stefanos wasn't looking. "We can even make you a girly cocktail if that's what you like more. With a pink umbrella on top. Well, to be fair, I can't but Jackie can,"  
"I don't drink before games, Nick. You know that,"  
"Your dad has drilled you way too hard, mate. Sascha's dad's pretty much the same but he's still out here having a proper drink at the big boy table," Nick was blatantly daring the Greek to do it against his will.  
Sascha could tell the youngster was feeling quite cornered by Nick's persuasive hammering and he actually found himself feeling sorry for him. "Stop pushing him, you big bully. Give him a fucking Sprite if that's what he wants,"

The moment Sascha saw the triumphant look gliding over Nick's devious face he realized this was a setup from the get-go. Nick never actually wanted to push Tsitsipas into anything he didn't want to do. He just wanted Sascha to come to his rescue. Well, mission accomplished. That conniving motherfucker.  
He was blushing again and knew that looking to his right to face the Greek would be the dumbest thing he could ever do. So he did it anyway. Because in the end, Mischa was right. Sascha brought all of this on himself, not that he would ever admit it though.  
When he looked he wished he hadn't. There was a warmth residing in the brown eyes that he had never seen before. It was so intensely entrancing that Sascha felt himself being pulled in like a Siren lured ships to the coast.

Something unfamiliar and unwelcome was stirring deep inside his stomach, something that would not be ignored. "Thanks, Sascha,"  
"You're welcome Stefanos," Sascha had never called him by his first name and the realization came as a shock to him. It was suddenly Stefanos now?  
Just because of how he just looked at him? Sascha was losing his mind.  
Coming here was a gigantic mistake. He wanted to run for the hills but he knew Nick wouldn't let them out of his grasp. He was the bonafide puppet master and they were all just along for the ride.

Nick handed Stefanos his drink and sat down with a content smile. He took the deck of cards in his hands shuffled them thoroughly and handed them out. "So, let's play some poker,"  
"Uh, I don't really know how to play poker," Stefanos admitted shyly. He was gnawing on his lower lip which was so alluring and distracting that Sascha quickly diverted his eyes to Sock, trying not to blush like a five-year-old again.  
"Hmm, why don't you team up with Sascha then, he's pretty good," Nick suggested, earning himself a smack to the back of his head from Jack. "Wow, subtle,"  
"Desperate times, my dear,"  
"We know what you're doing," Stefanos accused concisely. "Really? And here I thought I was being smooth," Nick shrugged callously. "I guess I lost my touch, so can we play cards now? Jackie's not getting any younger here,"  
"Fuck you, _dickhead_,"  
"Yeah, maybe later, if you're lucky," Nick cooed, shooting Sock a flirtatious wink that made him look totally gay like pink suede. Which he wasn't, Sascha knew that, but still.  
Watching them interact with each other was fun.

"No glasses tonight?" Stefanos suddenly asked, turning his attention to Sascha who was studying their cards. "Oh, nah. Mischa says they make me look like a massive Harry Potter nerd, so,"  
"They do," Nick declared, flashing him a toothy grin.  
"And this stupid Aussie always bullies me about it too, so I left them in my room,"  
"Why, do you have a thing for Sascha with his glasses on Stefanos?" Sock inquired sharply.  
Stefanos looked like a trapped animal and fled to the bathroom before anyone could stop him.  
"You assholes," Sascha snorted. This was going to be a long night and an even longer tournament.

_TBC....._


	2. Down the rabbit hole.

_Geneva._

When Stefanos still hadn't reemerged from the bathroom after the whole glasses incident ten minutes later, Sascha decided to go and check in on him.  
Knocking softly on the door he hesitated for a second, as he tried to come up with anything coherent to say. He was adamant to not bring the subject of his glasses up ever again though. "Stefanos, are you okay?"  
Wow, great job you idiot, way to keep it shallow, he scolded himself. "I'll be out in a minute!" the Greek replied, sounding awfully haughty and disjointed.  
Sascha noticed that Nick and Sock were quite busy licking each other's faces so he lowered his voice, hoping they wouldn't hear him. "Okay, but uh I could really use your help though, we have a very bad hand and I'm wondering whether we should fold or raise,"

Stefanos finally slid the door open just a tad. He was sitting on the white tiles, arms hunched over his knees. He looked as vulnerable as a baby bird and Sascha felt that persistent stirring in his chest flaring up once again. He heard his own heart hammering from behind his ears. "I know I don't understand the game but _why_ would we raise if we have such a bad hand? Wouldn't that be dumb?"  
Sascha smiled briefly at him, sensing he needed some reassurance, needed to hear that he wasn't dumb because he didn't understand Poker yet. "It's called stone-cold bluff remember? We try to get them to fold and win this round. Wait for a better hand so that we can go all in. We can still win the game, but we have to start betting really big. Nick already has way too many chips,"  
"See? I'm too _stupid_ for this game," Stefanos sighed miserably, looking awfully insecure once again, burying his head in his arms.  
"Hey come on. You're not stupid, man. Poker is just very complicated and has a thousand rules and card combinations. I don't expect you to remember all of them after just one game. Relax. You're doing good,"  
Stefanos peeked up from his hideout and ogled Sascha with a hopeful glitter in his eyes. "Really?"  
"Really," Sascha tried to say it with as much kindness and conviction he could. Stefanos seemed to be buying it. For now.

The problem with Nick was that he knew both Sascha and Sock too well. He read them like the back of his hand and was quite good at telling when they were full of shit and when they actually had a good hand. Sascha considered it cheating even though he knew it wasn't.  
He just wanted to beat Nick at something for once, he'd always been very competitive when it came to board or card games.  
Well, actually he was crazy competitive during all games, especially the ones he played with Mischa. Whether it was a game of pool or basketball, Sascha always wanted to beat his brother.  
Although to be fair he usually did, but he also knew that Mischa often let him win just to enable him. He'd never been very good at denying Sascha anything and Sascha happily exploited that to the max. A win was a win, whether he earned it or not didn't matter to him. If Mischa wanted to be a generous, giving big brother Sascha would take it.  
Sascha also generally beat Marcelo during the silly tour games they had to play on camera but he figured that even Marcelo let him win. Either that or he was just really shitty at all of them. Which could also be true. Marcelo had problems with understanding English so he may just be lost as to what to do when they explained it to him and therefore losing each time he played Sascha.

Nick was the only guy Sascha knew who would never do that for him. Letting him win. The one guy who always gave the best he got and didn't roll over to let Sascha beat him.  
It was infuriating and also extremely and oddly invigorating.  
When they had still been sleeping together it was a major turn-on for Sascha, but now it was simply an annoyance. Another hurdle for him to climb.

"I hope we can win, I know how much you _hate_ to lose," Stefanos mumbled, looking painfully shy again.  
This surprised Sascha. Had Stefanos been doing research on him? Had he seen the tour videos? They were all over Youtube after all. "How do you know that?"  
"Oh well, Dominic told me. When he heard we were playing Poker tonight he warned me you would lose your mind if you lost. Said you were a horrible loser and that you might murder all of us if you lost," Stefanos was only joking, Sascha hoped. His lips curved up into a light smile that somewhat reassured Sascha of that.  
"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you if we lose. I've never beaten Nick at Poker anyways so I had low expectations, to begin with,"  
Stefanos nudged his arm with his hand, looking supportive and hopeful like a child. "But you never played him with me, I may have the beginners luck, right?"  
"Could be, but we'll never find out if you keep sitting here, so ready to get back to work and kick their asses?"

A loud scowl from behind them told Sascha Nick had somehow managed to come up for air long enough to ridicule them. "Like that's ever going to happen, mate,"  
"Little boys need to dream don't they?" Sock teased, his hands still firmly tucked behind Nick's neck.  
"You do know we're actually a lot _taller_ than you two idiots are right?" Sascha retaliated. Stefanos laughed and patted Sascha's shoulder. "Nice ace,"  
"Yeah, they're not half as good as Roger's but I have my moments,"

"Stop flirting and get your asses back to work, we're not done with you kids yet," Nick shouted.  
Sascha shook his head aggravated and extended a helping hand to Stefanos to help him up from the floor and to his own surprise, he actually took it and let Sascha lift him to his feet.  
Only to release it as soon as possible when he realized what he'd just done. Pulling it back hastily as if he'd been stung by a bee. Sascha tried not to let Stefanos' startling response bug him but it did. It really fucking stung, for some weird reason.  
"You're one to talk about flirting Nick, you just had Sock tethered to your face. Was he searching for the Wimbledon trophy in your mouth?" Sascha quipped, shooting a wink at Sock.

Nick was looking semi-drunk due to being eight beers-no nine- in and always got extremely giddy when that happened. He wrapped an arm around Sascha's shoulders and stomped him hard on his back as he cackled like a drunk rooster. "Fucking hell man, I seriously _loooove_ your witty comebacks, Sash. You still got it, now sit your sorry ass down so that I can kick it for you,"  
"Yeah yeah, promises. There's two of us you have to beat now, not just me," Sascha reminded him, taking another large gulp of his third-or was it his fourth- Gin and Tonic.  
He felt the alcohol clouding his mind again, slightly dulling his senses. And yet he hadn't felt this relaxed and giddy in ages. He was out having fun with his mates.  
And Stefanos. The designated Poker newbie.  
His greatest rival and formerly least favourite person in the whole world. Right? At the moment Sascha didn't understand what his problem with Stefanos had been all this time. He was such a nice guy. Why weren't they friends? He was pretty too, like really pretty.

He looked to his right, glaring at the Greek once again before leaning in a bit. "Hey, Stef?"  
"Yes, Sascha?"  
"You're really good you know,"  
"Huh? What are you talking about? I'm horrible at Poker,"  
"Yeah but I was talking about tennis, you're really good at tennis,"  
"Oh, uh, _spasiba_. That's nice of you to say,"  
"Ooo-kay, I think Sascha's had more than enough to drink, why don't we get you on a water diet huh, buddy?" Nick intervened, looking mildly worried for him. Sascha shielded his glass, quickly drinking the last few sips before Nick could snatch it out of his hands. When it was empty he looked as content as he could at the Aussie. "Nah, I'm just having fun Nick. I'm not drunk, I'm fiiiine! Just let me have some fun, you fucking _forced_ me to be here and I'm here so stop whining!"

It took Sascha a few seconds to realize what he had just said with his stupid big mouth. When realization kicked in he felt himself sobering up at the speed of light.  
An eerie silence went over the table while he felt Stefanos freezing at his side. "You didn't want to be here, did you? To hang out with me. Did you lose a bet or something? Is that why you asked me to come with you?"  
"No! It was not a bet or anything like that-"  
"I'm going back to my room," Stefanos said coldly. All the warmth that Sascha had seen in his brown eyes had now turned into one icy glacier. "Hang on, mate. Don't blame him," Nick, always one to help, rushed to Sascha's defence and he was glad for it, considering that this was all his fucking fault, to begin with. "I asked him to invite you because I like both of you and this seemed like a good opportunity for you two to get on some better terms you know? But he seriously wanted to be here tonight, didn't you Sasch?"  
"Yes, I did. I swear," Sascha wasn't even lying, which was troubling him. He had never been this confused in his entire life.

"Really?" Stefanos clearly wasn't convinced, although with their blemished history Sascha could hardly blame him. "Da, really," Sascha switched back to Russian mostly on instinct. But Stefanos understood Russian.  
"Well, you know what they say, dude. Drunk people tell the truth," Sock assisted, always the perfect doubles partner even in everyday life. "Exactly, being drunk doesn't mask who you are it just reveals it," Nick chimed in, going in for the matchpoint.  
"I guess," Stefanos mused. He looked so utterly torn that Sascha worried he might implode. So trapped inside of his own mind. Stefanos had always been severely guarded and restrained in his contact with others but he seemed even more distant tonight.  
Sascha knew the feeling, seeing how he was held hostage in his own ponderings of the Greek, feeling eerily lost. Like a sailor without its compass. He turned to face him once again, laying his hand on top of Stefanos' forearm, the soft skin was surprisingly cold.

Sascha remembered whenever he shook Stefanos' hand after a match that it was beaming with heat. The iciness was troubling him. "Just stay, please? I really want you to be here. And I need help defeating those bullies. You were the one talking about making an effort for the team in the cafeteria today, remember?"  
"I know, I just don't feel welcome anymore,"  
"Well you are, so stay," Sascha demanded, the words coming out a little harsher than he wanted them to but Stefanos only seemed to be spurred on by it. Which was highly interesting. "All right, I'll stay. For Team Europe's sake,"  
Sascha tried to ignore the stab that statement gave him in his stomach and nodded. "Thanks, so let's play some more Poker,"  
"Do we have Amaretto?" Stefanos asked Nick. "Uh, I think we have some Dissaronno, why?"  
"Can I have a glass of Amaretto and Sprite?"  
"What kind of a weird combo is that?"  
"It's Greek and I love it,"  
"You sure you want to drink, mate? There are games tomorrow," Nick reminded him, looking thoughtful and mildly worried. Sascha loved that about him, that he actually cared for their well-being, despite teasing them and pushing them out of their comfort zone a bit. He still made sure they weren't doing anything they didn't truly want to do.  
"You're not my father, Nick. Just give me one glass, I won't have more than one. I think I'll survive,"  
Sascha smirked. He'd just said the same to Nick about his own father. Nick went to mix Stefanos' drink for him and handed him the long glass. He also placed a big glass of water in front of Sascha and creased his eyebrow at him, ordering him to drink up. "Cheers mates,"  
"Thanks, Nick,"  
"You do know that one drink doesn't exist right? It's a utopia. Where there is one there will be many more,"  
"Maybe for an undisciplined guy like you, but I can actually control myself better. I don't let my emotions rule my better judgement,"

Nick looked impressed and also a tad offended. "Low blow, mate. And also a good shot,"  
"You're not the only one who can talk a good game,"  
"Apparently not, Steffie,"  
Sascha, who was docilely drinking the water was growing highly impatient. "Can we just finish this game, please? We have an early morning,"  
"Jesus Sash, you sound like my grandad. You're the second-youngest guy in here, and you're a night owl. Grow up and act your age son,"  
"Fuck off, Nick,"  
"I bet you're just scared that Roger and Rafa will kick your asses for being hungover and tired tomorrow,"  
"I'm not scared of Roger," Stefanos blurted out in between sips. "Who are you kidding?" Nick scoffed. "You two _literally_ kiss the ground the GOAT walks on. If he was some supervillain you two would be his adoring yellow little minions,"  
"I can't really see Roger as a villain," Stefanos said concisely, making Sascha giggle due to his astute and somewhat dimwitted response. He could be really thick at times and tended to take things way too seriously.  
"Nicky, can we get back to it, as you said: I'm not getting any younger here and I kinda do need my beauty sleep," Sock said, taking a hand full of nachos with guacamole and stuffing them in his mouth. "Yeah fine, we still have unfinished business anyway, thanks to Sascha's awful timing," Nick leaned in to kiss Sock lightly on the lips.

Making Sascha quickly look anywhere but at the spectacle, thus landing his gaze on Stefanos. Which wasn't a solid plan. The Greek looked just as uncomfortable watching them kiss lazily in front of them.  
After what felt like an age they finally disentangled from one another and turned back to the game.  
Nick won, but just barely and with a massives stroke of luck, which truly pissed Sascha off.  
If he had a racket in his hand it would be destroyed immediately. Nick gleamed triumphantly at them, collecting his victory chips and counting them out loud just to tick Sascha off. "Hmm, another win for me. This must be really infuriating for you, mate,"  
Sascha grumbled, not willing to enable Nick by replying. Of course, it was infuriating, everything about Nick was fucking maddening.

He shouldn't have let Stefanos talk him into going all-in on the last hand, he knew that Nick could beat their hand if he had slightly better cards but he let the Greek talk him into it. They didn't have much of a choice anyway, they had to bet big to win. And they lost.  
Sascha was annoyed, but not with Stefanos, no his primary beef was with himself. He tried to tell himself that it was just a stupid game but that never worked. "Sorry, Sascha," Stefanos said cautiously as if he was terrified that Sascha would bite his head off for losing a simple game. His cheeks were rosy and flushed and Sascha wondered if it had been the alcohol or his if he just felt awkward for letting Sascha down.  
"It's fine, I'm used to losing to this asshole,"  
"Oi! Don't blame me, I can't help it that I'm frigging awesome. If you wanna win you should run to your brother," Nick sneered.  
Nick had been saying that about Mischa ever since Sascha knew him. He'd been teasing them with his self-declared "co-dependency issues" for a very long time.  
Sascha felt the need to protect his brother and always got riled up when Nick said it. "Oh like I've never heard that before, very original," he turned his attention back at Stefanos. "I'm going back to my room, you coming?"  
"Yes, it's late,"  
It was when Sascha checked his watch it was nearly eleven. The countless drinks had made him extremely sleepy. Which was odd for him considering that he was a bonafide night owl. He seldom got tired before midnight. It was getting him to wake up early that was a menace for himself and his family. His parents and Mischa had to wake him up by shaking his arms hard, not even four alarm clocks could do the trick, Sascha just snored right through them.

They said goodbye to Nick and Sock and when Sascha opened the door Nick shouted, "Use a condom!"  
Sascha saw Stefanos' cheeks heat up and he shook his head at Nick, giving him the finger. Stefanos sighed as they stepped into the elevator. "I can't believe I ever-"  
"Oh don't beat yourself up, Stef. We've all been there. There's a certain _appeal_ to him. A sort of pull that people keep gravitating to,"  
Stefanos' eyes were gleaming ominously in the dimmed light, was that a shard of jealousy Sascha detected? "Wait, _you_ were with Nick too?"  
"Sure, on and off for a few years. Just sex though, nothing too serious. Now he's more like the pushy best friend I never asked for,"  
"Were you even old enough when, well you know?"  
"I was seventeen, I think. I can hardly remember, to be honest, seems like a lifetime ago,"  
Stefanos fell into a pensive, brooding silence as they waited for the elevator to take them to their floor. Sascha wasn't sure what to say. What could he say? Was Stefanos mad?  
When he eventually spoke again, his voice was awfully guarded and quivering. "So it meant nothing then?"  
"No, not really. We were just having fun, you know? I was never in love with him or anything like that. Why were you?"  
Stefanos blushed. "Well, I won't say in love but I did have a little crush on him, yes. There's just something special about him, you know? But I was instantly healed when I walked in on him and Jack two days later,"  
"Hmm, I'll bet. I think Sock's the only one Nick will always go back to. He's the one he truly wants to be with but Nick's just too emotionally stunted to realize it,"  
"This is weird, talking about him with you, knowing we both, you know..."  
Sascha chuckled. "I know, right?"  
"Change the subject?"  
"Please do,"

The elevator pinged and they strode out quickly, but Sascha had way too much to drink and lost his balance stepping over the threshold. Stefanos grabbed his arm to steady him, wrapping it firmly around his shoulders. "Whoah, be careful!"  
"Sorry, I can be such a klutz. Mischa says it's a wonder I'm still alive,"  
Stefanos released his arm and Sascha missed the contact the second he did. Stefanos was one of the few people he knew that could walk beside him and look nearly as tall as he was. Who else could walk with his arm around his shoulder without having to reach up for him? Not many people other than Marcelo, Mischa and John Isner.  
It had felt nice, for as long as it lasted. What the fuck was going on with him tonight? He had to get his shit together. He needed to talk to Mischa, like right now. He could always get his head back in order.  
"What room are you in again?" Stefanos asked. "Uh, 12,"

Stefanos kindly escorted him to his room and lingered near the door as Sascha searched through his pockets for his key-card. Of course, he couldn't find it, he seldom could when it mattered. He finally discovered it in his back pocket, along with his phone.  
A door opened a few rooms down and Sascha saw Rafa Nadal sneaking outside. He hadn't seen them, he merely turned to the left and opened the door to his own room. Stefanos made a concise humming noise in the back of his throat, eyes round as saucers with shock. "Huh, wasn't that Roger's room?"  
"I don't know, could be I guess, who knows?" Sascha shrugged evasively, praying that Stefanos would buy his lie. He didn't. "I always suspected, but I never thought, well not really. But you knew then? Does everyone know?"  
"I really don't wanna talk about it, to be honest. It's not my business and it certainly isn't yours either,"  
The Greek eyes bore hard into his own, narrowing dangerously, spewing hot lava. "Right, see you tomorrow then,"  
And with a flick of his heels, the Greek had stormed out on Sascha, leaving him standing in front of his door, slightly bemused and totally annoyed. Mostly with himself for being too forward but also with Stefanos for leaving him so soon.  
He had sort of hoped for a proper goodbye. Like a hug or something else that indicated they were now on better terms. But Sascha feared his astute response just took them ten steps backwards.

He sighed furiously and wandered into his empty hotel room. Flopping down on his bed he reached for his phone.  
He had a few missed calls and messages from Mischa, asking him where he was ( Sascha always called him around ten when they weren't together ) and some of Nick. _'Getting lucky yet? __Go get him, tiger,' _things like that. Sascha ignored them.

This was all his fault, to begin with. He knew it was late but he was going to call Mischa anyway, mostly to reassure him he was fine but also because he needed to vent. And Mischa wouldn't be asleep until he heard from him anyway, being the overprotective brother that he was. Mischa picked up at the first beep. "Sash, where the fuck have you been? You weren't picking up your phone, I've been calling!"  
"Mish, I'm fine, I turned the sound off. I was in Nick's room, playing poker with Sock and Tsitsipas. I didn't hear my phone, that's all, quit worrying,"  
"Are you drunk?"  
"Are you watching me through a webcam or something? Why would you ask that?"  
"I know you and you sound drunk as fuck. Answer me,"  
"Just a few drinks,"  
"Nick's a horrible influence on you, dad would be furious,"  
"Well he isn't here and Nick's actually the one who tried to stop me from drinking so you're wrong there. He was looking after me, I was asking for the drinks. Stop patronizing me Mish, I'm not a baby,"  
"I'll stop doing that when you stop acting like one. You didn't sleep with him again did you?"  
"Hell no, I told you Sock was there! He has first dibs on Nick. I was there to bond with Stefanos. Nick's idea, not mine,"  
"And did you?"  
"Did I what?"  
"Bond with Tsitsipas?"

Sascha started his nightly ritual of placing all of his shoes in order and making sure everything was straight. He couldn't sleep before he'd done that. "A little bit. He's total shit at poker but we actually got along fine, until I said something stupid and pissed him off,"  
"Of course you did. He probably got too close and you shoved him away-right?"  
Sascha grunted reluctantly. "Maybe,"  
"So yes," Mischa sighed. He sounded disappointed in him and Sascha hated letting Mischa down.

It was much worse than letting his father or his mother down. He'd idolized Mischa ever since he was born. Mischa's opinion of him mattered more than anyone else's. "Sash, if you keep pushing everyone away just because you're scared to get hurt you'll always be alone. I don't want that for you. You get so defensive when people start to see the real you,"  
"I'm not going to be alone forever Misch, I'm only 22 years old. I have a lifetime to find someone and be happy. Right now I'm focusing on my career if you don't mind,"  
"See? Defensive. I know you would rather chop off your own arm than admit it to anyone but you like him,"  
"You're nuts, I have to go to sleep now, I need to get up early for the games and team breakfast and all that shit,"  
"Uhu, I'll call you to wake you tomorrow, eight o'clock right?"  
"Yup,"  
"All right,"

"Hey Mish?"  
"Yeah,"  
"Did you ever think Roger and Rafa are-well you know-doing it?"  
"Why do you ask?"  
"Well, when Stefanos was walking me back to my room-"  
"Wait, he actually walked you home? That's so sweet,"  
Sascha chose to ignore this and continued as if Mischa hadn't interrupted him. "-we saw Rafa coming out of Roger's room. He hadn't seen us but his hair was all messy and his jacket was in his hand. And Sock asked me about it earlier that night if I ever caught them. And then Rafa wanders out of Roger's room like that. I mean I always wondered about them, just like most people do, but now,"  
"You honestly believe Rafa would cheat on Mery just weeks before their wedding?"  
Sascha shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it was nothing. They could have been talking and nothing more but I had the feeling something was up. I'm definitely keeping an eye on them this weekend,"  
"Let's put it this way: if they are doing it then it wouldn't be a surprise to me. Not really. There's always been this chemistry between them, I mean look at the first Laver Cup, they were all over each other,"  
Puzzle pieces were all now fitting together when Sascha really thought about it. It made sense. "I know, I'll keep you posted on what I find out. I'm going to bed now. Good night Mish,"  
"Sweet dreams, Sash,"

Sascha hung up and went into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. When everything was in order the way he liked it he dove under the covers and tried to get some sleep. Stefanos came back to haunt him all night.

_TBC....._


	3. In my dreams we're always together.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Nick work through some issues. 
> 
> Sascha tries to deal with his ever-changing feelings towards Stefanos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been gone for a very long time. I'm sorry about that. I had a lot on my mind and not much inspiration to write this. 
> 
> I hope you guys will still like this and that some of you remained with me during the wait. There were supposed to be 3 chapters but I decided to make one more after this one. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. 
> 
> Also, if you don't like Nick Kyrgios feel free the skip the first half of this chapter. I just wanted to include some more of him and Jack together because it's my guilty pleasure. And my fellow reader Justintime30 requested some more Jack x Nick content so I couldn't resist. Hope you like it. Also hope to get people more sympathetic towards Nick, tbh. 
> 
> Also, I know news about Nick and Rafa's injuries came out later but the timeline isn't correct, clearly. Don't kill me for it.

_Jack._

Jack Sock was literally beaming with positive energy that night. He hadn't felt this alive in ages.  
After their doubles match that they won late that night Nick had taken him back to their room for a little reward. Losing his first doubles match with Shapo yesterday had been awful for him, considering the realization that his team had only brought him along to win the doubles games for them. There wasn't much else he was useful for, not in his current poor condition.

But tonight, with Nick as his partner, he had finally stepped up to the plate and defeated team Europe. They were an amazing team and knew each other's movements and tricks like no other.  
Jack had already calculated on winning this game with Nick, knowing damn well how good Nick was and how they elevated each other's game. And Jack wasn't half bad at doubles either, not even with his fat tummy.  
So, as a thank you, Nick was all over him from the second they stepped into the hotel room. Tearing his clothes off, pressing his tongue to all of his sensitive areas that he knew how to find with his eyes closed.  
Jack was getting a treat tonight and he was enjoying it while he could. With Nick, it would all be gone soon enough, when the tournament ended and they went back to their daily lives without each other in it.

Right now, Nick was giving him one of the best blow jobs he'd ever had in his life. Nick had always been sooooo good at that, sucking him off as if his life depended on it, but tonight he seemed even more invigorated and creative than usual.  
He was starving for it, looking like a man that found an oasis in the middle of a desert.  
His skilled tongue was licking up and down his cock, suckling and tasting wherever he liked, making Jack's head spin as he moaned and panted uncontrollably. Fuck, how he had missed this. How he had missed Nick these past few months.

Sure they'd called and all that but it wasn't the same as actually tasting Nick's lips, as lying naked in his arms with him after a good fuck. But ironically, what he had missed most about Nick was his personality. Not the sex, nor the kisses.  
No, he'd longed for Nick's banter, for his clever remarks, his sunny persona, the nicknames he used for him and his stupid jokes that Jack pretended to hate but actually adored, deep down.  
The only thing he couldn't stand about Nick was how he fucked his way through half the tennis world, male or female it was all the same to him. As long as he got laid.  
That was still hard for him to digest, even after all those years of trying to get used to it. Of knowing that he would never have Nick all to himself, not really. He wasn't enough for him. Never enough. That had been the story of his life.  
Longing and pining after someone who would never go for him, not fully. Being in love with the one person you couldn't have but also couldn't bring yourself to reject when he was offering himself up to you and thus only increasing your misery because with each kiss they shared Jack felt himself fall in love all over again.  
Stupid and hopeless as it was. Still, he _couldn't_ say no to Nick, not ever.  
Whatever he had to offer to him he would accept, weak as it may seem. He was like a junkie when it came to Nick, completely and totally addicted to everything about him.

As Nick suckled on his balls, still knelt in front of him, Jack suddenly caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and cringed at his own reflection. He looked awful.  
Way too fat and the idea of Nick voluntarily sucking him off while he looked like that when he could have gone for someone more attractive was so distressing that he felt himself softening before he could stop it.  
Nick noticed, of course, there was no hiding anything when you were with him and cocked his sharp eyebrow at him. "What's wrong Jackie? Those were some of my _best_ moves and you suddenly disappeared on me,"  
"You shouldn't do this," Jack choked out, swallowing hard.

Nick was clearly completely lost as to what the hell he was talking about and raised himself to his feet, bearing his dark eyes deep into Jack's. He was completely naked, half-hard, his lithe luscious body glistening with sweat and his warm arms pulled Jack close to his chest. "Do what?"  
"Fuck man, you shouldn't go down to your knees for me. Not when I look like this. How can you even _want_ to suck me off, I could hardly see your face over this useless, rancid stomach. I looked like fucking Santa when I saw myself in the mirror. Jesus, you should find someone more attractive to fuck tonight. I'm not worth the effort, obviously,"

Nick's hands cupped his face tightly and Jack could tell he was furious with him. "You know you're applying for a good punch to the face with the way you talk about my partner,"  
"I'm _not_ your partner though, am I?" Jack sneered, voice laced with jealousy. "I've never been and I never will be,"

Nick's grip tightened on Jack's cheeks, his fingers bearing so hard into his skin that it hurt. "But you are, though. And not just on the court tonight. You are,"  
"How do you figure that? We fuck Nick, nothing else. You made it pretty clear that you never wanted more than that from me. We're best friends who fuck, nothing more,"  
"That is not fucking true nor fair and you know it. In case you forgot you've always had girlfriends too! Not just me. The only difference is that mine doesn't care who I fuck, yours doesn't even know about us,"

"Again, what us? There is no us, Nick, there's never been an us. You never wanted us to be, never gave us a real chance. Besides, the day I would be stupid enough to try to tie the knot with you is the day I lose you for good and never see you again.  
I know you better than anyone else. You can't be tied down, not by me, not by Ajla.  
You're like a fucking tornado that courses through a meadow, you take down everything in your path, never satisfied with what you already destroyed along the way! No, you always want more, you're _greedy_ for it.  
You weren't satisfied with fucking Sascha, no you had to have Stefanos too like they were part of a collection and god knows who else is on your list. It's never enough. Not really.  
So what was I supposed to do huh? Wait for you until you're finally done fucking everything in sight? No, I fucking moved on too and got a wonderful girlfriend to spend most of my time with considering I hardly ever see you during the years.  
If you wanna hold her against me, fine, that's your choice. But don't pretend it's on me that I chose to move on from you. This is what you wanted, you need your freedom and you don't wanna be tied down. I get it but don't come at me for not waiting around for you to grow up. You are the one who's too emotionally stunted to go for a monogamous relationship, not me,"

Nick's eyes were beaming with something Jack hadn't seen before and suddenly the Aussie seemed incredibly vulnerable, close to bursting out in tears. Jack half regretted his words when he saw a tear glistening in the corner of Nick's eye but he also felt relieved for speaking his mind about something he'd been carrying around for years. To finally tell him the truth was as necessary as it was torturing.  
Seeing the younger man this distraught hadn't been his intention and Jack's natural instinct to protect him from anyone who tried to hurt him was kicking in.  
He stroked his thumb over Nick's lowered face and raised it up so they could look properly at each other. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I shouldn't have said all that,"  
Nick shrugged miserably, unable to swallow the persistent tear away and Jack quickly caught it with his forefinger as it slid halfway over his beautiful face. Knowing damn well that Nick couldn't stand it to look weak, not even around him. He had a status to maintain. 

The Aussie sniffled the upcoming tears back down with the utmost difficulty and braced himself, regaining his composure. "No, Jackie. You weren't wrong and you had the only right to say all of that to me. I'm sorry I hurt you, that I keep hurting you. I know I'm fucking impossible to be with, trust me I know. I don't know why I'm like this, honestly. Why I can't just be with you and let myself be happy. I want to be because you mean the world to me. Genuinely. I love you to death and that's the fucking truth.  
No matter who's in my bed for the night I always think of you when I fuck them.  
I think I mostly do it because I miss you and they sort of help me forget about it. When I close my eyes I can _almost_ pretend they're you. Although none of the movements feel right, my skin doesn't recognize theirs, it's not even half as good as it is when we're together.  
I think I'm mostly using them as distractions. None of them has ever compared to you, to how you can make me scream and none of them knew my body as you do.  
But I can't be your husband Jack.  
At least not right now. But I promise that you and I are going to be partners one way or the other until we're old and wrinkled and they put us in a nursing home together. You won't get rid of me so easily, I assure you,"  
Jack wiped a tear from his own cheek and wrapped his arms around Nick, embracing him as tightly as he could, as if he feared that Nick would vanish into thin air if he ever released him.

This had always been all they had, a variety of stolen moments in hotel rooms during tournaments. That was it.  
Shards of what could have been something real and tangible.  
Time with Nick flew by faster than they could register and before they knew it they were parted again, stuck at the far sides of the world living their lives without the other. It was an illusion, nothing more. A wonderful and addiction one, sure, but in the end, it was nothing more than a dream. It was all so fragmented, their entire relationship or rather the lack thereof. Nick took his hand and led him to the nearest kingsize bed, pressing him down on the firm mattress and laying down under the duvet beside him, holding him close.  
Jack's face somehow ended up on Nick's sternum and the warm arms came around him as tight as ever. Arms and limb tangled together they lay there, resting in silence as they often had after a night of making love. Or fucking if you asked Nick probably.

Nick's persistent boner had finally subsided and his face was more serious than Jack had ever seen it. It was disconcerting. "And I still think you're _beautiful_ Jackie O," Nick murmured lovingly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.  
Jack rolled his eyes at him at the sound of the feminine nickname he claimed to hate but actually adored. "Shut up,"  
"No, I really do. Did you somehow forget I was fat as a kid? I would never find you unattractive because you gained a few pounds, I'm not that shallow, mate,"  
"A few pounds??? This isn't just a few pounds and you fucking know it,"  
"Oi, I don't care, I still think you're hot as shit and I still wanna have sex with you and suck you off until you forget your own name and come in my face. Nothing's changed for me, Jackie,"  
Jack felt a blush creep over his pale cheeks. "You're such a smooth talker,"  
"Well, we all have our strengths, besides, it's working ain't it?"  
Jack glared up at Nick and planted a firm yet needy kiss to his lips. "It always works and you damn well know it. Like I can resist your stupid charms,"  
"Apparently not, otherwise you would have left me by now,"  
"If only I could, you insufferable brat,"  
"Well, you could _try_ to leave but you'd be miserable without me in your life, surely,"  
"Hmm, don't I know it," Jack huffed, knowing full well how true that was. He was already miserable without Nick around him for most of the year.

"Do you think we can win tomorrow? For the first time?"  
Jack slumped his shoulders, feeling the familiar post-game strain creeping over his muscles. "I don't know. I reckon it will be a close one again, as usual. John and I will probably win our doubles game but I think it will all come down to whether Milos can defeat Sascha,"  
"I hate that I can't help you guys out, I should play but instead I'm just sodding useless,"  
"You can't help it that you feel injured, Nick. It happens. They probably lost Rafa too didn't they?"  
"Still, I want to help. I hope Milos can win but I doubt it honestly,"  
"Me too, but Sascha hasn't been in great form lately so that might help us,"  
"Hmm but you know that Sash is a wildcard, mate. You never know what he's going to do,"  
"Kind of like you,"  
"A little bit, I suppose. But he's much less good looking than I am," Nick said with a toothy smirk.  
"Sascha is a more well-rounded player but Milos has his serve. Not even Sascha can stop that. So if he stays cool and he always does because he's the calmest, most stoic guy I ever met in my life, we might actually pull it off this year,"  
Nick frowned, curling his lip up pensively. "I don't know. Don't rule Sascha out just yet. Roger and Rafa wouldn't place him in that crucial game if they didn't have complete faith that he can beat us. When Sascha sets his mind to something and truly believes in it he'll do it. And he already won the decisive game last year so he knows what the pressure feels like.  
They obviously trust him. So no, I'm not as optimistic as you are pretending to be,"

Jack knew he had a point and decided to shift the subject to something lighter to distract himself from the pit that was forming in his stomach at the prospect of losing another Laver Cup. "Has he talked to you lately? About your little plan for him and Stef? Have they kissed yet?"  
"No clue, actually. He hasn't said much. Just that they're starting to talk more and that they're slowly getting on better terms. But you know Sascha, he can be really fucking cagey and I know he still resents me for tricking him into Poker night, to begin with, so he could be holding out on me just to torture me. They'll get together eventually before the tournament is over, I'm sure of it,"  
"For your sake, I hope you're right, otherwise you know what the consequences will be," Jack threatened with a sly smirk.  
"That shirt will look absolutely wonderful on me and I would be proud to wear it, no matter what you say," Nick said cockily, referring to the pink "I love Jack Sock" T-shirt he would have to wear if Stefanos and Sascha didn't hook up by the end of the Laver Cup. It had all been a bet from the start.  
Jack had bet against it happening and if he would lose he would have to walk around with a similar horrible pink shirt that said, "I love Nick Kyrgios" on it, decorated with awful red hearts around the text.  
Pathetic as it may be, Jack was going to hold onto that shirt no matter what happened. Just to cheer himself up on days where he really missed Nick. Well, whenever Laura wasn't home, obviously. He knew Nick would do the same, although he would never admit it.

Nick's phone suddenly beeped on the nightstand and he picked it up and snorted as he read the text. "Well, well, well, speak of the devil and he will appear. Sascha's asking me if I think he should check in on Stefanos. Apparently our Greek beauty hasn't said a word since we beat them,"  
Jack propped himself up, leaning on his elbow, his fingers darting absent-mindedly over Nick's chest. "What are you gonna say?"  
"That he should get his ass over there asap,"  
"Are you doing that for them or for you? These are people's emotions you're toying around with, Nick. Don't do that just to win a bet okay, it's not right,"  
"I'm not saying it because I had the bet in mind, I was actually being genuine for once. You know I would never wanna see Sascha upset, he's one of my best mates. I'm just trying to help and he did ask me what he thinks I should do. I noticed they've been distant for the past few days and he did mention they'd fought a bit after the Poker game so it's time for them to sort their shit out. Talk it through. It's better than being emotionally repressed ain't it?"

Jack shrugged callously. "I guess,"  
Nick typed a reply and laid the phone back on the nightstand, focusing his attention back to Jack, running his hand over his chest as he suckled playfully on a nipple. "Now that that's sorted, can I finally show you exactly how hot I think you still are?"  
Jack moaned when Nick's other hand started rubbing over his hardening cock. "The day I say no to that is the day you should feel free to punch me in the face,"  
Nick grinned wide. "I'll remember that," he said, sealing his lips together with Jack's.  
That night, for as long as it lasted, they had everything they needed.

_Sascha._

Sascha was pacing restlessly in front of Stefanos' hotel room as he futilely tried to muster up the courage to actually knock on the sodding door. It wasn't something he was fond of doing but somehow anxiety was getting the better of him. Stefanos had barely said two words to him ever since that first night and had mostly kept to himself, as he always did. He said the basic necessities to the rest of the team but that was pretty much it.  
Sascha knew that this was all very foreign to Stefanos, to actually work with a team around him. Stefanos was kind of a loner and was used to doing everything by himself for so long that performing in the Laver Cup had been a big adjustment for him.  
He tried his best but somehow he just wasn't connecting to any of his teammates.

He had won one game against Taylor but other also just lost his doubles with Rafa, which couldn't be good for his confidence, which was already wavering from being the new kid in the team, Sascha could tell.  
Stefanos mostly interacted with Domi and Sascha could understand why. Roger and Rafa were like idols to the Greek, Sascha was a conflicting subject no doubt and Fabio, well Fabio was Fabio. He could drive you crazy if you spent too much time with him.

So that left Domi, who was a neutral party, always up for a chat and super kind to everyone around him. Sascha fully understood why Stefanos had turned to him and yet it still stung. To feel overlooked like that, especially after they had actually managed to make some progress during that Poker night.  
Sascha had genuinely hoped it would help them bond better but unfortunately, that night hadn't ended well and after Sascha had rudely told Stefanos off to protect Roger and Rafa the Greek had completely shut down from him, going back to their usual routine of complete radio silence.

Sascha wasn't willing to give up on Stefanos just yet though and therefore he was now lingering in front of his doorstep like a creepy stalker, unsure whether he should knock or not. Knowing that Stefanos probably wasn't in the mood to see him right now. Still, his legs had carried him there on their own, it had to be for a reason, right?

He read Nick's text again, cursing the Aussie for meddling in his affairs, to begin with. If it weren't for him and his stupid plans none of this would have happened.  
Sascha would have been on poor terms with Stefanos but he was used to that, going back to those lousy formalities after he'd gotten a glimpse of what a lovely guy hid underneath the mask seemed almost unbearable.  
Sascha was dying to get to know that side of Stefanos a lot better, feeling intoxicatingly curious to explore what other secrets were lingering beneath the surface.

The desire to call Mischa for advice emerged in his racing mind but he stubbornly pushed that away. This was one thing he wanted to do on his own, without constantly bugging his brother for his advice as if he was some whiny two-year-old that couldn't reach the top shelf.  
It was high time to grow up and let Mischa be. Make his own decisions without anyone influencing him.

His family had always babied him but Sascha had genuinely enjoyed that, which resulted in him being quite spoiled and also not really able to do anything on his own. He couldn't figure out how the dishwasher worked or how to turn the laundromat on, boil an egg, make his own bed. Silly things like that.  
Thankfully he had staff and family for that but still, it was bizarre to think that a twenty-two-year-old could be this immature. He vowed to himself to learn some necessary things around his house when he got back to Monaco.

Finally bracing himself for the impact his hands darted to the door and knocked impatiently on it. No answer. Sascha slammed his fist down again and kept pounding until a wary voice piped up from the other side of the door. "Who is it?" a broken voice cried out. He sounded so vulnerable, so shattered that it broke Sascha's heart.  
Sascha swallowed the lump that formed in this throat away. "Sascha, can you please let me in,"  
"No, not tonight. Go away, I wanna be alone,"  
Sascha wasn't giving up so easily and decided to fall back to his stubbornness and started banging on the door again, keeping it up for a good minute before he seized and called out, "I can do this all night. And I will until you let me in. Just open the fucking door, Stefanos! Unless you want me to wake the entire floor,"

There was a brief silence before the door finally slid open. And to Sascha's bemusement it wasn't Stefanos who stood in the doorway but Domi, of all people. "Domi? I-what the hell are you doing here?" he asked in German before turning his gaze to Stefanos who was lying on his bed, curled up in a fetal position, looking awfully small for a man of his towering stature. "You call this being alone? We have very different definitions of being _alone_, Stefanos,"  
"Sascha-" Domi started but Sascha cut him off, all his anger transfixed upon Stefanos now and it came oozing out before he could seal his lips. "Nope, you don't get to talk right now, just get out,"  
Dominic seemed semi offended but turned on his heels regardless, always eager to help. "I'll leave then,"

Stefanos' fragile voice reemerged into the heavy air. "No, Zverev's the one who should leave, not you. I don't _want_ him here,"  
It cut through Sascha like a filleting knife. "I'm not going anywhere, not until you talk to me," he bristled hotly. "If you want me to leave you'll have to drag me out and trust me, I'm much heavier than I look,"  
Domi snorted. "He's right about that. But no need for that because I'm going to go, guys, I'm exhausted,"  
Stefanos grimaced at him. "It's incredible you know, how loyal you are towards him after what he just said to you. How rude he was. I wish I had friends like that,"  
"Domi's heard worse from me, unfortunately. But he never leaves," Sascha smiled, wrapping his arms around the Austrian and cuddling his friend firmly. "I keep trying to spook him off but he's like a boomerang,"  
Stefanos conveyed them with hooded eyes. "Well, count your blessings Zverev. He might be a better friend than you deserve,"

"Isn't that the truth," Sascha agreed but Domi shook his head, clacking his tongue disapprovingly. "You don't know what you're talking about Stef, don't judge a book by its cover and don't ever talk about my best friend like that, please,"  
"Sorry, Domi," Stefanos offered shyly, cheeks crimson and Sascha could tell he was angry with himself for nearly spooking the one friend he had made off with his harsh judgement.

Domi, pragmatic as always, released Sascha and wandered over to Stefanos' bed, hugging him briefly. "Don't worry about it. Now get some rest and I'll see both of you tomorrow morning. It's going to be an important day. Don't stay up too late, you hear me Sash?" he snapped, sounding eerily much like Mischa.   
"Yeah yeah, I know. I'll go to bed asap, _promise_,"  
Domi turned on his heels, wished them goodnight and shut the door behind him.

Stefanos still hadn't moved from his bed but was now seated with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms firmly tugged around them for reassurances. Sascha only hoped it wasn't because of his presence that Stefanos was looking so defensive but he feared it might be. "So, why are you really here Zverev?"

"Sascha, Stefanos. My name is Sascha,"  
The Greek rolled his eyes and sighed deep, seemingly exhausted. "Whatever, what do you want?"  
"I wanted to make sure you're all right. You barely said anything after the match and I could tell you were upset. I just came to check in on you,"  
"Did Roger and Rafa put you up to this?"  
That felt like another ball to the gut. "No, I _wanted_ to be here. To see if you needed anything. I was worried for you,"

"Save your lies for someone who cares," Stefanos' voice was like a whip, lashing onto his bare back. Sascha had to fight every inch in his system that told him he should get the fuck out of here, knowing that he had to persevere.  
He wanted the Greek to listen to him. "Can you stop being a fucking dick for two seconds and just listen to me?"

Stefanos cocked his head sideways and observed him intently for a good two minutes before he finally budged, his brown eyes narrowing cautiously. Still guarded. "Fine,"

"I'm sorry for what happened on the first night okay? Sorry for somewhat tricking you into coming to the game after Nick tricked me into it. Sorry for making you feel left out, sorry for saying that things weren't your business.  
I accidentally excluded you from the rest of our team. I didn't mean to do it but you have to understand that I was conflicted about what we just saw with Roger and Rafa. Speculations revolved inside my head and when my head gets too full I can't think and I go fucking mad. I start obsessing and I tend to lash out at the wrong people. I know you're pissed at me, and you have every right to be.  
But I hope you can-well you know-that we can go back to that first night. I actually really liked spending time with you. I had a lot of fun. Well, before I ruined it all,"

Stefanos' expression defrosted a tiny bit and he patted down on the mattress, offering Sascha to sit beside him. He switched to Russian. "Thank you for saying that. It's just been hard for me, you know? Being here with all of you, performing in a team with players that I normally look up to and so far I haven't done shit to earn my spot,"  
"That's not true, you beat Taylor didn't you? You can't focus solely on the negative, you also won a game,"  
"Yeah, fantastic. Beating _Taylor_ _Fritz_, like that's a real achievement like beating someone like Novak would be,"

"Hey, Taylor just like yourself, is one of the biggest talents in the world. He's not that easy to beat, man, cut yourself some slack. And please don't beat yourself up for losing the doubles tonight.  
You've never played doubles with Rafa before and Nick and Sock are impossible to beat when they're together. No one could have taken them down, not today. Because they're sleeping together they know each other's every move, if you ask me it's cheating that they're even allowed to play together. You and Rafa are basically strangers so you can't blame yourself for not defeating them,"

"Still, I failed and I'm a good doubles player but still I played like shit. You know we lost because they were targeting me, they knew I was the weak one and they lured me out. They were smart enough to go for me. I shouldn't have been out there. I just wanna go home, honestly,"

Sascha, emboldened by Stefanos' more gullible, fragile side decided to extend his hand slowly and rest it carefully on top of Stefanos folded digits. He'd half expected the Greek to pull away but thankfully, he didn't. Stefanos needed this, Sascha realized, actually craving for reassurances. For someone to tell him he wasn't useless.  
"You're not going home, I won't let you leave,"  
"Try to stop me,"  
Sascha chuckled and then lunged forward on the bed, locking Stefanos tightly into his arms so that he couldn't move anymore. Feeling the Greek's soft curls brush against the necklaces on his neck, making him shiver. He'd never expected the hair to be that soft. "There, I stopped you. Now, what are you going to do? Hmm?"

Stefanos sniggered loudly and squirmed around in his arms, thrashing back and forth without success. Sascha was a lot stronger than people gave him credit for. He was skinny sure, but he had a lot of power in his biceps.  
"How are you this strong? Jesus Christ," Stefanos muffled, his scorchingly hot face still pressed heavily against Sascha's bare skin.  
"I'm half Russian, remember? Besides, I told you that you shouldn't underestimate me. Now, do you give up yet? Because I can keep hanging on all night,"

Stefanos released a stifled yawn and seized his attempts to break free from Sascha's grip, his hands now calmly resting on Sascha's forearms, stroking his skin lazily. "Fine, I give up,"  
Now that Sascha hadn't expected and he was now faced with another dilemma: leave as soon as possible or trying to stay put, seeing how he felt awfully cosy and safe in Stefanos' orbit. He wanted to stay with him, strange as it seemed. Craved for it. What the actual fuck had happened to his life? Nothing made sense anymore.

Sascha eventually stirred in the younger man's arms, reluctantly getting ready to slip out of the embrace but to his surprise he found himself stuck in the Greek's hold. "Will you stay, please?"  
Sascha's heart nearly tumbled out of his chest, racing a thousand miles an hour as millions of questions engulfed him like waves crashing onto the shore. "Really?"  
"I don't wanna be alone right now and I'm super comfy. But it's okay if you wanna leave, I mean, I get it,"

Sascha shook his head, stroking a lock of blond hair from Stefanos' forehead and tucking it neatly behind his ear. "Nah, I'm fine right here. I actually hate sleeping alone. At home at least I have Lovik with me but spending the long nights at my hotel room by myself, without him, Mischa or my folks is hard on me, so I appreciate the company,"  
It would have made sense for Sascha to get up and stumble to the other kingsize bed that stood beside the one they were laying in but Sascha had no desire to abandon the consuming warmth of the other man's embrace.

And seeing how Stefanos didn't ask him to leave either and flicked off the lights, he didn't.  
Sascha shifted a little to lie on his side, feeling the Greek move along with him, still quite reluctant to pull his head back from Sascha's chest. It was all so insane, it didn't make any sense.  
The very idea of them sharing a bed together after all the shit they'd just said to each other was basically ridiculous. And yet he was so intensely comfortable it defied all logic.

His fingers ghosted over Stefanos' clad shoulderblades. "No more blaming yourself for tonight okay? Tomorrow's a new day and we'll still win this tournament. I promise you,"  
Stefanos mumbled something incoherent and Sascha could tell he was probably five seconds away from falling asleep in his arms. "Okay, Sascha,"

Smiling content that he and Stefanos were on a first name basis once again, Sascha shut his eyes and relaxed. Stefanos was already asleep, breathing steadily, his lips slightly parted against Sascha's chin. Warm air constantly caressing Sascha's skin as he exhaled, the gesture and closeness were all so intimate that something stirred inside Sascha's chest. A longing and an ache to be even closer took hold of his heart.  
Sascha stroked his hand through Stefanos' hair, just because he felt like touching the soft curls and then followed him into a deep and dreamless sleep.

_TBC......_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that ended surprisingly, didn't it?  
Looks like they're finally making some steps forward. Right? 
> 
> What do you think? Thank you for reading.  
Kudos and notes keep me going so if you want more, feel free to let me know. <333

**Author's Note:**

> Notes and kudos give me life guys so don't be shy. 
> 
> Also, I tend to change my chapters a bit after I write them, so you may wanna read this again. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <33


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